


Geraskier Drabble Collection

by Bean_writes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Eventual Smut, Feels, Fix-It, Flowers, Fluff, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Interrogation, Kidnapped Jaskier | Dandelion, Light Angst, M/M, Mafia Boss Geralt, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protectiveness, Romance, Smut, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bean_writes/pseuds/Bean_writes
Summary: A place where I collect every Geraskier drabble I (will) write for Patreon! (Warnings before every chapter)Chapter 1: Canonverse, eventual smut. Hurt!Jaskier.Chapter 2: Mafia au, kidnapped!Jaskier, angst, happy ending.Chapter 3: Canonverse, fluff.Chapter 4: Reincarnation au, fluff, light angst.Chapter 5: Canon divergence, post-mountain scene, angst.Chapter 6: Canonverse/divergence, fix-it fic.Chapter 7: Canonverse/divergence, Jaskier at Oxenfurt.Chapter 8: Modern au, adopted Ciri, Dads Geralt and Jaskier.Chapter 9: Canonverse/divergence, Jaskier gets captured.Chapter 10: Canonverse/divergence, Geralt has to 'save' Jaskier from the tower and bring him back.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 318





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Writing such short drabbles is a challenge honestly but it's always fun to try something new!
> 
> \- Huge shoutout to my beta, [rachel_exe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_exe/pseuds/rachel_exe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- The reward for addicted2demons on Tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No archive warnings apply!

Jaskier scrunched up his nose and let out a hiss as Geralt put him down on a thick log. 

“You’re a foolish bard,” the witcher said, his voice raspy but lacking bite to his words. 

Flinching when Geralt inspected the wound on his arm, Jaskier argued back, “I couldn’t get a good look.”

“You could’ve seriously gotten hurt,” Geralt said, voice stern and brokering no argument.

“I had to get a good look at how you fought the griffin. How do you expect me to write new songs from that far?”

Geralt didn’t answer and busied himself with patching up the wound on his arm. Jaskier hated it when he made his witcher feel like this. He could tell Geralt was worried from the set of deeply furrowed brows on his face, but he would never say that. Words weren’t exactly the white wolf’s forté.

“Geralt,” he said, swallowing the lump down his throat. _Please look at me, I can handle myself._ “Geralt,” he tried again as he reached out a hand and trailed it upwards until he was cupping Geralt’s jaw. “I’m fine.” 

Much to the bard’s surprise, Geralt leaned into his touch. A soft hum rumbled from deep inside Geralt’s chest, and Jaskier relished in the affection his witcher showed. He brushed the hairs that had fallen before Geralt’s eyes away -he shouldn’t worry so much- before taking his arm and guiding it around his waist. “I’m alright, Geralt.”

Honey-like eyes locked with his before Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier let his head lull back under Geralt’s touch, shivering as his witcher inhaled deeply in the crook between his neck and shoulder. 

“Foolish bard,” Geralt said again, voice filled with emotion, peppering the brunet’s neck with kisses before sucking a dark mark on his pulsepoint.

Geralt’s hands roamed over his body as they slotted their lips together. His actions were filled with warmth, care, affection. Jaskier knew his witcher cared about him deeply, more than he would ever admit out loud. After all, Geralt's actions spoke louder than his words. His protectiveness and worry showed in the way he undress Jaskier, fingered him to the point his legs trembled and his mouth fell agape. Geralt's impassive expression faded once he fucked Jaskier deeply. His thrusts were uneven, desperate, seeking out affirmation that his bard was really okay.

A whine bubbled up in Jaskier’s throat when their eyes locked again _. I want all of you._

Jaskier ran his hands up and down the scarred skin of Geralt’s muscled torso, moaning when Geralt hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him. “Geralt.” 

The witcher’s hips stuttered when his name rolled off Jaskier’s tongue, and Jaskier couldn’t help but smile proudly to himself and he repeated his name over and over as his hands clenched Geralt’s shoulders. “F-fuck, Geralt.”

Jaskier cried out, eyes rolling back into his skull and back arching off the log. He let go like that, panting and tensing up while Geralt fucked him through his orgasm. The witcher followed suit with a silent cry of his own, burying his face against Jaskier’s neck.

“Don’t do that again,” Geralt eventually spoke, bodies slouched together in post-orgasmic bliss even though he still had a protective hold around Jaskier’s waist. 

Jaskier simply chuckled, relishing in the way his witcher purred as he kissed him again. “I’ll think about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- The reward for addicted2demons on Tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning! (Not between Geralt and Jaskier)

Blood dotted Jaskier’s shirt as he received another blow against his jaw. They had been going on for God knew how long, torturously slow but enough that he wouldn’t get an ounce of rest. Sleep tugged at his eyelids, eyes burning as he looked up again at the tall, broad figure in front of him; the white light from behind him blocked out his face. 

“Piss off, will ya?”

The shadow scoffed, arms crossed over his chest, and kicked Jaskier in the stomach again. 

Acid burned the back of Jaskier’s throat, but his determination kept him from emptying his stomach. Breathing harshly through his nose, Jaskier shook his head, brown strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Fuck this bullshit. 

He knew this would happen sooner or later, fully aware of what he was getting into once he let himself go in the arms of the White Wolf. Geralt was an infamous mafia boss, ruthless, stern, yet he never broke a promise, and that was what Jaskier had initially appreciated in the man. 

At first, he had been rather apprehensive at allowing himself to flirt a little whenever Geralt came to the bar he worked at, but his deep, silky voice and hard features had instantly made Jaskier swoon. Before he knew it, he had been sitting in Geralt’s office, discussing the details of their relationship since both of them had wanted more than a few casual hookups.

Geralt had warned him that all sorts of opponents would come for him to hurt Geralt. Jaskier had been too focused on the care in Geralt’s charming touch and the warmth that spread through his chest when Geralt said it was because he cared so deeply about Jaskier, to fully grasp what would happen. 

With his wrists bound behind his back, knees scraping over the concrete floor, Jaskier didn’t even know what foe was towering over him as he received another punch in his nose. Blood flowed freely from his nostrils and down his throat, the taste of iron overwhelming his mouth. 

“Speak,” the figure said and Jaskier barked out a laugh.

Betray Geralt? Who did he think he was?

“Fuck you,” Jaskier spat through gritted teeth. This man was foolish, and he’d pay for this. Geralt would make him beg, and Jaskier would laugh.

When the shadow smacked Jaskier’s temple, the brunet wondered if his vision went black due to the impact of the blow, but the man cursed under his breath once the room became fully dark. Heavy footsteps echoed through what seemed to be a hallway connected to the room where Jaskier was in, followed by muffled voices and creaking wood.

Jaskier squinted as he tried to focus in the darkness, his eyes bulging wide open as he heard the wooden door break. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, threatening to break out of its ribcage as his ears picked up on a low thump in front of him. 

Men screamed, groaned and instead of meddling in the fight, Jaskier rolled to his feet with his hands cuffed behind his back. Someone pushed him, his chin scraping over the floor, ankles twisting as he tried to save himself from falling.

He searched around, ignoring the now muffled screams and looked at the small window at the opposite end of the room. They had put him in a basement? 

Someone pushed him again when he made a run for it, and Jaskier instinctively kicked back, hitting his assaulter against his shin and knees. The man groaned and Jaskier’s eyes widened as he recognized the deep rumble from his chest.

“Dammit, Jaskier.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier stopped his movements, going still in Geralt’s hold who pressed him against his chest. He didn’t stop himself from taking in a deep breath, basking in the White Wolf’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Geralt kissed his forehead, peppering kisses across his temple until the lights sprung back on and both hissed as it hit their eyes.

“Fuck,” Geralt said lowly, brows furrowing as he inspected Jaskier’s wounds before Eskel and Lambert burst through the doorway; the wooden door only hanging onto the last hinge.

Jaskier looked at Geralt’s colleagues who were out of breath, wiping the sweat off of their foreheads. 

“You’re too fast, Geralt,” Eskel said, finding leverage on Lambert’s shoulder.

Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning further against his boyfriend’s chest as he made quick work of the cuffs around his wrists. 

“I should really teach you how to get out of these,” Geralt hummed, throwing the iron pair on the floor. 

Jaskier grinned cheekily. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You just got kidnapped and you’re already thinking about that?”

Jaskier’s grin grew wider and he stuck out his tongue.

Geralt scoffed, wrapping his arm around Jaskier’s waist before he looked at Lambert and Eskel. “Clean this up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tooth-rotting fluff as a reward for Wynter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No archive warnings apply!

The warm spring breeze whipped the brown mess on Jaskier’s head, and Roach huffed as a few flower petals rested on her nose. Jaskier chuckled at Roach, slouching further against her side as he ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair. His white locks were surprisingly soft, like smooth silk, and Jaskier couldn’t help but twist the strands under his fingertips.

“Are you almost done?” 

Geralt’s voice was low, rough, from deep inside his chest, and he looked back over his shoulder at Jaskier. He had a teasing flicker in his eyes, rays of sunshine hitting his hard features.

The tips of Jaskier’s ears grew searing hot, crimson coloring his cheeks as affection tugged at his heart. Geralt was perfect. 

“No,” he choked out, continuing to braid Geralt’s hair. “I expected more patience from you.”

Geralt scoffed, soft golden eyes meeting Jaskier’s. Jaskier got lost in the honey-like pools, forgetting time, wanting nothing more than to cup Geralt’s cheeks and pepper kisses on his nose, temples, and slightly chapped lips. 

Jaskier could feel the hard muscles of Geralt’s back as he leaned back against his belly. He was pretty sure Geralt could hear his heart threatening to break out of his ribcage as a crooked smile curled on the witcher’s lips. 

“What?” Jaskier pouted, adding plucked chamomiles to his braid.

Geralt’s grin grew wider. “Nothing.”

Pursing his lips, Jaskier let out a long breath through his nose. Oh, how his witcher could drive him insane. Nothing could have prepared Jaskier for the whirlwind of emotions that surged through his head the first time Geralt had kissed him. Too much and never enough. It had been a soft kiss, hesitant even, something he hadn’t expected to come from someone like Geralt. There was always so much care in the way Geralt touched him, and Jaskier’s heart swelled at the reminder.

“What are you smiling for?” Geralt asked, propping himself up on his knees and leaving Jaskier’s lap cold and empty.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jaskier replied cheekily, heart stammering as Geralt took his cheeks between his palms, sending shivers through him as they locked eyes again. He leaned into the touch, crow’s feet breaking his skin as Geralt kissed his forehead. “You’re a fool.”

Geralt hummed in acknowledgment, the sound rumbling through his chest.

Jaskier welcomed the sound, the touch, he welcomed Geralt. Never wanting to let go. Never wanting to go without Geralt’s snarky remarks whenever he would do something stupid, without his soft humming before he fell asleep, without Geralt’s warm embrace at night. 

“What is it, little lark?” Geralt looked at him intently, cocking his head a little to the side. Like a cute wolf, Jaskier thought.

Jaskier’s cheeks hurt as his smile matched Geralt’s. He shook his head before gripping Geralt’s vest and hesitantly bent forward, meeting Geralt halfway. Without a word, he pressed their lips together in a slow, tentative kiss. Caring, warm, full of affection, and wanton.

Jaskier’s eyes slid close, letting the warmth of Geralt’s touch engulf him, always craving more. He felt whole, at ease, home in Geralt’s embrace, the wave of emotions that Geralt brought with him threatening to overwhelm him.

“Geralt-”

With the sun shining brightly, warm spring breeze running through their hair, Geralt leaned forward again, kissing Jaskier before his mouth could start blabbering again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reward for Wynter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They asked for a reincarnation au :)

With a loud thump, Geralt put down his backpack once he entered the studio. Sleep had eluded him for the past couple of days, only being able to close his eyes briefly on the bus to campus. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, sleep threatening to take over until he heard his boyfriend stumble into the living room.

Geralt perked up at that, peeking through his eyelashes at Jaskier who immediately closed the distance between them and kissed him on his cheek. 

“Good evening, you sexy thing.” Jaskier winked and Geralt couldn’t help but huff through his nose.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, following Jaskier’s lead to the kitchen table. 

Despite being at university all day to work on his master’s thesis, Jaskier never failed to make his heart swell to the size of a melon with the simplest gestures. On some days, the brunet would even take the bus all the way into town to make sure Geralt would take a break, and they’d chat about everything and nothing while sipping on some coffee.

Affection made Geralt’s heart throb once Jaskier put down his plate of leftovers. Roasted vegetables and chicken, his favorite. It had always been, but in this time grills were more efficient and his boyfriend had learned how to marinate meat. The pit in his stomach twisted deeper whenever he thought back to what they were before, but he couldn’t help but shake his head when he remembered that Jaskier hadn’t even been able to set up a camp in the wilderness or hunt for a meal back then.

Geralt had done the hunting, cooking, setting up camp, but times were different now. Jaskier was the one who took care of him when he needed it the most, or maybe he always had?

“You know that I can cook for myself, right?” Geralt teased but pressed his hand on the small of Jaskier’s back before the brunet sat down next to him. 

“And yet, here we are,” Jaskier grinned, and Geralt had to ignore the rush of heat spreading across his cheeks. Jaskier didn’t remember, he didn’t know the meaning of those words.

Geralt played it off cooly, deciding to change the topic and asked about his boyfriend’s day. 

“That reminds me,” Jaskier started, mid-sentence, broad smile curling on his lips when he jumped back on his feet. “I got us something. Well, I got myself something, haha.” 

“Fuck,” Geralt said. Jaskier had the habit of buying ridiculous, impractical things ‘because they looked nice’. He was such a dumbass sometimes. His dumbass.

Hearing Jaskier rummage through a couple of boxes in the living room, Geralt kept eating the rest of his meal until he was sure his soul had left his body once he heard the first string buzz. 

His eyes widened and he whipped his head towards Jaskier. There he was, without a clue in the world, casually holding a lute between the hands Geralt had loved for the second time. 

“What?” Jaskier’s brows furrowed, and Geralt had to remind himself to actually breathe. “You don’t like it?”

He blinked a few times, mouth feeling awfully dry. “A lute.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said proudly, playing a few strings. “It sounds so good. It’s like it was made for me, don’t you think?”

All Geralt could do was nod as he admired the twinkle in Jaskier’s eyes as he played to his heart’s contempt. Just like before, Jaskier would sing about the most ridiculous things and would try to tease Geralt by singing about him. But this time, Geralt didn’t stop him. He listened to Jaskier with all his heart, and he wanted nothing more than for Jaskier to remember.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reward for Taryn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: angst  
> Post-mountain scene!

“If life gave me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.” 

The words had left Geralt’s mouth before he could properly process them. He was out to hurt Jaskier, that was what he always did. Hurt people, hurt everyone around him. Jaskier might have been a pain in his ass, whining and puffing his way through whatever journey they were on, but he had grown accustomed to his company. A gentle constant in his life he had grown to appreciate, then why was he out to push him away?

Jaskier’s gaze didn’t falter, the pain in his eyes contorting his soft features into a look of misery. He made a move to open his mouth before his brows furrowed in a deep-set scowl. 

Geralt’s eyes widened, taken aback by the emotions playing on Jaskier’s face; his usual chipper, friendly, warm, and welcoming companion displaying nothing but fury.

“You’re full of shit, Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier spat, his voice brokering no argument. 

Making a move to interject, Geralt was scolded into silence and he balled his fists. 

“I wasn’t done yet.” Jaskier raised his hand. “You whine and bicker about your goddamn destiny, and yet you’re so fucking sure that that woman, that minx, is _destined_ to be with you? You’re a madman.”

A knot twisted in Geralt’s stomach, he had never seen his bard this feral before. He had already caught a glimpse of Jaskier’s determination, his resilience back when they had been captured by a bunch of elves, and while he wanted nothing more than for this moment to stop, he also couldn’t help but admire Jaskier’s merciless words.

“I feel bad for you, my friend,” Jaskier said, scoffing as he kicked a rock in Geralt’s direction. The brunet shook his head, a wicked smile curling on his lips before he looked up again and met Geralt’s eyes. “What song should I make out of this? Shall I sing about how you sit on a rock and brood, feeling sorry for yourself because you cannot escape the hardships of life? Life consists of misery, heartbreak, and pain. I would have thought that a witcher would understand the complexity of living more than anyone.”

Geralt swallowed thickly, mouth feeling dry, full of cotton balls threatening to suffocate him. He tried to speak past the lump in his throat, knuckles turning white when he couldn’t bring himself to even defend himself. There was no point, and his body knew that.

Jaskier closed the distance between them, mere inches away from Geralt’s chest. “And I feel bad for myself for ever thinking you were this great, magnificent witcher who was capable of expressing something aside from rage, but…” Jaskier shrugged, barking out a laugh. “I suppose I was a fool for thinking a witcher would be able to do that.”

Jaskier was right. A witcher didn’t have human emotions, only a sliver of humanity left inside them. He was right to leave at that moment, to turn his back to Geralt, and not look back for one last glance.

Jaskier made the right call to leave him in the middle of rocks and bleak, grey sand, Geralt thought while looking at the empty fields, cold night breeze whipping his hair. But if witchers didn’t have emotions, then why the moment Jaskier turned around, all he wanted to happen was for the earth to swallow him whole?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reward for addicted2demons!
> 
> Canonverse, fix-it fic

There he was, brooding in a corner like always, Jaskier thought when he caught a glimpse of the white wolf he had been singing about for years. It had been a couple of months since the dreaded mountain fiasco. His wounds still ached, but nothing a couple of ales couldn’t turn into a gentle buzz inside his chest.

The chances of meeting Geralt again had been slim, oh, so slim, and Jaskier wasn’t usually someone who would pride himself on having stalkers; unless, as Geralt had put it, he had hidden his sausage in the wrong royal pantry. So for Geralt to barge into the tavern where it was publically known that Jaskier would sing regularly made a smirk curl on Jaskier’s lips. Oh, his brooding, emotionally constipated witcher. He just couldn’t stay away.

“Hello, stranger.” Jaskier took a swig of his ale, propping himself up on the table right in front of Geralt, putting one leg over the other. 

Geralt looked up, scowl as deep as always. It was probably already carved into his hard features. 

The man didn’t comment, didn’t say as much as a word until Jaskier leaned back and prodded at his attire. “New vest?”

“What is it, Jaskier?” 

Ah, so he could speak.

“I could ask you the same thing, oh darling Witcher.” 

The alcohol thrumming in his veins didn’t help the situation. He had imagined reconciling with Geralt countless times before, picturing situations where he would be the only one to have ever made a witcher cry and different scenarios where Geralt would bury himself against his neck and helplessly clutch onto his robes. He was so foolish, a foolish bard. 

Geralt hummed, deeply from within his chest. Oh, how Jaskier had missed that sound. 

“So,” Jaskier propped himself back on his elbows, cocking his head to the side to face the white wolf. Was that a new scar on his chin? “What brings you to my tavern after all this time?”

“I shouldn’t have come,” Geralt said, making a move to stand up, but Jaskier only just got him back, he couldn’t leave now. 

He swung his legs to either side of Geralt’s torso, catching him in a weird stance he wouldn’t be able to move from unless he picked the bard up. That wouldn’t even be so bad, Jaskier thought, intoxicated. 

Geralt’s brows shot up into his hairline before he locked eyes with Jaskier again. His jaw was clenched shut, jawline so sharp it could cut someone. “Move.”

“No,” Jaskier said flatly, he might be foolish, but he wouldn’t let go. Never again. “You came here for a reason.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, but Jaskier’s stern gaze didn’t falter, not even when his witcher placed a hand on his thigh. 

“You cannot confide in an old friend anymore?” Jaskier continued to tease, the stitches on his old wounds threatening to rip back open. Was he ready for that? To let Geralt in again? 

Geralt went quiet for a while, and anyone else would think Geralt was simply done talking, but Jaskier was different, he could read the little twitches, the small changes in his usual calm exterior. Geralt was in pain, he was hurting, and the heartbroken part of Jaskier cheered him on. But in the end, hurting Geralt would only punish himself more.

“Just say it, Geralt,” Jaskier broke their silence, his voice soft and careful as he looked at the honey-like pools in Geralt’s eyes. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

Geralt was honest, sincere, Jaskier could feel it. His witcher didn’t have to speak, the bard already knew what he meant, but that didn’t mean Geralt could just swoop in here and think everything was fine again. Not after what he had pulled after the dragon hunt. 

Jaskier waited, and waited, minutes feeling like hours before Geralt stood up and loosely wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist to pick him up. The contact was much appreciated, the warmth of Geralt’s touch engulfing him to the point he was sure he could turn into a melted puddle. 

Geralt put him down again, hand resting on the small of his back. “Come?” 

Jaskier pursed his lips. He knew he wouldn’t get an outright apology from Geralt, it wasn’t his style, but he would triumph in the idea of doing so. “You missed me that much?”

Squinting, a chuckle rumbled from Geralt’s chest. “If I let you ride Roach, will you shut up?” 

“No, but I’ll gladly take you up on your offer.” 

With an eye-roll, Geralt turned around, never losing contact with Jaskier, like a string connecting them, always tugging them back together, no matter the distance. 

And Jaskier was fine with that. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No archive warnings apply!

Wax dripped down the sides of Jaskier’s small candle, dimly illuminating his small room at Oxenfurt. For the past few weeks, after a day of going over materials, he had found tranquility in writing stories about the infamous butcher he had learned about. Geralt of Rivia, was his name. Tall, broad, white hair, back full of scars, voice as deep as a dragon’s roar… so they said.

He had heard tales about the white wolf, a lonely witcher who didn’t like to meddle with human affairs, and he got lost in them. Writing about the adventures he imagined Geralt experienced, smearing down words with ink as black as his corpse-like eyes after drinking miraculous potions, was everything Jaskier needed to stop the loud thumping in his mind. 

Jaskier had never met him, but he felt like he knew him better than anyone. A kind, warm-hearted witcher who kept everyone at bay to save himself from the heartbreak humans tended to inflict on others. Or was he projecting onto the character he was writing about? 

Brows furrowing at the thought, Jaskier bit the loose skin off of his fingers before drying the parchment. Geralt of Rivia, oh, how they would make a great pair. With a scoff, he blew out the candle after getting under the tightly knit blankets, imagining how it would be to travel around the lands with Geralt. It would probably be tough, but Geralt had a horse called Roach, surely he’d let Jaskier ride her. 

Around midnight, the strong wind whipped the brown mess on Jaskier’s head enough for the brunet to peek through his eyelashes. He’d have to file another complaint to the masters of his wing in the university. Not even his huge encyclopedia could stop the wind from bursting through his small room, Jaskier thought, eyes widening when he realized he was surrounded by dry grass and high trees.

What kind of nightmare did he find himself in this time? He sat up straight, hissing as his eyes burned from the fire close to him. 

“The wind is bad tonight.” 

Jaskier whipped his head towards the deep voice, mouth wide open as he saw the white wolf sitting on a log in his black attire, warming his hands by the small fire.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the man said with a huff, shaking his head, long white hair flowing before his golden eyes. “What?”

Jaskier blinked a few times before pinching himself, a knot twisting in his throat when he felt the small sting on his arm. By the gods, what had happened? What kind of sick joke were they playing on him this time? 

“You’re going to catch flies with your mouth open like that,” Geralt chuckled, the sound resonating from deep inside his chest just like Jaskier had imagined. 

Warmth spread through the brunet’s chest, heating up his collarbones and neck until crimson colored his cheeks. “Geralt?”

The witcher hummed, raising a brow. 

The flames illuminated his sharp features, his strong jaw, cheekbones, deeply furrowed brows on top of fiery eyes. He looked just like the drawings he had seen of him, and more. He was absolutely beautiful, stunningly fierce. 

Jaskier couldn’t tear his gaze away, too mesmerized and full of jitters. He was here with Geralt, Geralt was here with him, he wasn’t dreaming anymore.

“Get that weird look off of your face, Jaskier.” Geralt pointed at him, and Jaskier realized he had been smiling widely. “Or I’ll knock you back to sleep.” 

Pursing his lips, Jaskier contemplated the thought before lying back on his side. The fire kept his face warm, his cheeks heated as he looked at Geralt who stared back at him. What was he thinking about? What journey were they on?

“Go to sleep. I’m not dealing with your tired whining tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m much of a whiner.” Jaskier made an attempt at defending himself, appreciating the subtle changes in Geralt’s exterior when his scowl contorted itself in a sly smile.

“Did you lose your head when that monster hit you? This isn’t your comfortable city life any longer, Jaskier,” Geralt said.

Jaskier’s brows furrowed at that. When did what monster hit him? When was that, and how long had he been here with Geralt? When had he left Oxenfurt? 

Too many questions filled his mind and a searing headache surged through his skull. He hissed at the strong sting, like a warm blade going right through the middle of his head, and he pressed his palm on his temple. “Argh.” 

“Go to sleep, bard.” Geralt got up from the log, squatting down in front of Jaskier whose face contorted in pain. 

Geralt ruffled his brown locks before Jaskier nodded. He needed sleep. All of this would make sense tomorrow. It had to. And while a thick fog clouded his mind, an anxious knot twisting in his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel a gentle buzz in his chest knowing he was here with Geralt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No archive warnings apply!

The sun shone brightly in Jaskier’s eyes once they made it to the porcupine part of the zoo. Ciri had lately been obsessed with the prickly animals, asking him and his husband to read her fun porcupine facts every night before she’d go to bed. 

It warmed Jaskier’s heart seeing her eyes twinkle and her cheeks turn pink when she caught a glimpse of the spiky animal. Ciri immediately let go of his hand and ran towards the glass, pressing her nose against the thick window as if that would make her see better. 

Jaskier chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest before he looked back over his shoulder to glance at his husband. “I think we’re gonna have to get her a birthday cake with a porcupine on it this year.”

Geralt smiled with a huff, stopping to stand next to Jaskier. “You’re the one who introduced her to this madness.”

“Oh hush, let her be happy,” Jaskier said, both of their eyes set on their daughter. Ciri had been with them for four years already, and with tears welling up in his eyes, Jaskier still couldn’t believe they had their little family together.

“Are you seriously getting emotional over this?” Geralt scoffed, looking at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye.

Pursing his lips, Jaskier turned to glare at his husband before walking over to Ciri. He squatted down next to her, following her gaze. “Which one is your favorite?”

“That one,” she said, pointing at the lonely porcupine in the corner of their outside residence. 

Jaskier couldn’t help but snort. “Don’t you think that one looks a bit like daddy?” He looked back at Geralt, making sure his grumpy partner would be able to hear him. “He likes to brood in corners too.” 

Ciri laughed loudly, bouncing on her feet as she nodded. 

“That’s my girl.” Jaskier patted her on her head before bursting out laughing when he saw the deeply set scowl on Geralt’s face. “I see the resemblance.”

Geralt hummed when they walked back to where he was standing, pointing at the pot-bellied pig sleeping in the mud behind them. “And that’s papa tonight if he doesn’t learn to keep his comments to himself.”

Jaskier feigned offense at that, taking Ciri’s hand before picking her up. “You would never let me sleep outside all by myself.”

Geralt smirked. “Are you sure about that?”

With a pout, Jaskier nudged him in the side. “Yes, you wouldn’t want me to catch a cold.”

“That would indeed be a shame,” Geralt smirked, wrapping his arm around Jaskier’s waist and ruffling Ciri’s hair before they started walking to the next area. 

“Let’s see if we can find a brooding panda next,” Jaskier said, making a move to kiss Geralt’s cheek, but Geralt flicked his finger against his forehead. “Oh, come on, dad. Learn to take a joke.”

Geralt scoffed through his nose, shaking his head before taking Ciri from Jaskier and letting her run free. “Maybe you’re just not as funny as you think you are.” 

“I am absolutely hilarious,” Jaskier said, barking out a laugh as Geralt didn’t push him away when he wrapped his arms around him. “And quite lovable too.”

“Hmm. Debatable.” 

“No, you love me.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, a soft smile curling on his lips. “Yeah, yeah.”


	9. Chapter 9

The universe really wasn’t on his side, Jaskier thought. Maybe Geralt had been right, he really did always find himself in the most ridiculous circumstances. This time around, he was on his knees, back pressed against a brick wall with his hands tied in front of his chest, in a dungeon deep below the actual village. 

He had traveled to Mariakerke on the premise of capturing the little creature that had been pestering Geralt’s existence to no end. He didn’t know what he was up against, all he knew was that the creature was fond of music. Thinking that had been a sign, Jaskier had taken it upon himself to lure the little minx into a bag and deliver it to Geralt himself. Instead, he had been the one to be captured.

The villagers hadn’t been exactly fond of his musings, and he had apparently caught more attention than what he had presumed. The glint in their eyes when they had realized he indeed was the bard who sang about the white wolf of Rivia, had been beyond stomach-turning. The hunger, the famine for gold had hit Jaskier harder than the tree branch they had swung his way. 

The moonlight dimly illuminated the cell they had thrown him in, and the wound on his chin stung as he went to lick his awfully dry lips. He had to think of a plan, a way out. For as far as he could see, there were two ways out of this shithole. Through the bars at the top of the cell, or through the actual cell door. 

Could he take on a guard? Maybe. Could he take on two or more guards? As much as his pride liked to tell him he could easily overpower them, he had to admit that they would beat the ever-living crap out of him if he as much as dared to make a run for it. Besides, why on earth would they untie his wrists? Bollocks. 

He peeked up at the small opening at the top right. A cat could probably fit through that small gap, not a bard, Jaskier thought in frustration. On top of that, his knees had started to ache and his head began pounding once he heard loud footsteps echoing through the dark corridors. 

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” a deep voice croaked, sounding as if he had been smoking for years on end. “You found yourself in quite the tricky situation, didn’t you?”

Jaskier huffed, shoulders shrugging, not being able to stop his mouth from running. “It will give me enough inspiration for at least three entire ballads.”

He heard the man choke out a laugh before he started coughing. Filthy, Jaskier thought, scrunching up his nose in disgust. He didn’t even have to see the pig’s face to know he looked like the lowest scum that roamed the lands. Unkept beard, missing teeth, sour stench around him, he probably had it all. 

It was easier to focus on the sad excuse of a human being in front of him than on the miserable situation he was in. Plus, Jaskier was aware he was known for being a blabbermouth, annoying certain folk to no end. If he could get under the skin of this pig, he could potentially worm his way out of this. After talking the man’s ear off for what felt like an hour, finally, Jaskier heard a set of keys jingle and the iron door creek. Now was the time to take action, he just had to find an opening to kick the piece of filth in the nuts.

The man stepped in the ray of moonlight, he looked exactly like Jaskier had imagined, and the pig almost doubled over when another coughing fit began. Disgusting.

“Do you ever-”

“Keep that up,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes for effect.

“Shut up, or I’ll-” The man wheezed, cough starting to sound more like he was choking on a lump in his throat until he doubled over and had to cling onto the metal bars for leverage. 

Jaskier watched the balding guard’s grip loosen, strength depleting until eventually, he fell on his side with a loud thump. 

That was easier than expected, Jaskier shrugged, promptly getting up from his knees to steal the keys from the man. He was still breathing for as far as he could tell, almost as if he had fallen into a deep slumber.

Furrowing his brows, Jaskier shook his head and cut the rope around his wrists with the guard’s sword. The rest of the dungeon was dark, and he couldn’t make out where the way back up was. Squinting as he tried to focus in the darkness, his eyes bulged wide open as he heard a wooden door break, followed by footsteps echoing through the dungeon.

Heart pounding loudly in his chest, threatening to break out of its ribcage, he quickly drew the guard’s sword and held it upright. Praise the gods, he couldn’t get a break. 

With a determined stance, he held the sword in front of his face, ready to take on the big, broad shadow that was looming closer. 

“Really, bard?” 

Jaskier perked up at that, he would always be able to recognize that deep voice rumbling from deep inside the man’s chest.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here, Geralt,” he said, lowering his sword, smiling widely as he caught a glimpse of Geralt’s wolf-like eyes. “I found myself in quite the pickle.”

“I’m aware.” Geralt pointed at the guard. “Luckily for you, the poison started working right on time.”

Jaskier looked back at the man who was puffing loudly. “Oh, that was you?”

Despite the darkness, Jaskier could almost feel Geralt’s eye-roll. 

“Yes. Now, let’s get moving,” Geralt said, patting Jaskier on the shoulder. “Unless you’d like to spend another night here?”

“Oh lord, no.” Jaskier jumped up, dropping the sword at his feet. He nudged Geralt in the side as they started making their way out of the dungeon. “I’d gladly take a night with you over this madness.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed at that, a bemused look briefly crossing over his features before they were set back into their usual scowl. “Just move.”


	10. Chapter 10

After taking down a group of drowners, Geralt put away his silver sword with a huff. The prince he was supposed to bring back to the main town was still casually standing a few meters away, ogling at him like he was a piece of meat.

He was used to it. Humans perceived him as a freak or a muscle container, and at this point, he was okay with both. Although, this prince named Jaskier was different. He was perceptive, yet chatty and clumsy. He easily picked up on the fact that Geralt had been a witcher when he ‘saved’ him from the tower. 

To his knowledge, Jaskier had been living in a secluded castle for the past couple of years. Had he been cast out? Did he choose this life himself? Did he suddenly have to come back for urgent business? Geralt didn’t know, and he was fine with that, always wanting to keep himself neutral in human affairs. 

“That was magnificent,” Jaskier chirped, wide smile stretching across his cheeks. 

Another thing Geralt had noticed was that Jaskier was honest and rather expressive in the way he held himself. This, this was what Geralt wasn’t used to. When non-witchers were nice to him, he still smelled the stench of fear on them. Jaskier was rather strange. He talked freely about whatever came to his mind, much to Geralt’s annoyance, and even touched the witcher like he had been his long lost friend.

Geralt hadn’t been hugged in months, maybe even years. He didn’t like to dwell on it. 

After three weeks on the road, Geralt had found Jaskier whispering to a bird on his shoulder, a grin curling on his lips once the witcher made it back to camp. 

“Found more wood, did ya?” Jaskier smiled, a pink hue coloring his cheeks in the midsummer sun, and was that a freckle on his top lip? 

Geralt shook his head, putting the logs down near the fire. Jaskier was different, and he did even stranger things to the witcher’s head. 

A week before they were supposed to reach the settlement where Geralt had picked up the quest, Jaskier put his head on Geralt’s shoulder when they were sitting in front of the fire. 

Flinching involuntarily, Geralt tried not to think too much of it. Maybe Jaskier had had too much wine to drink. That would explain the crimson cheeks and red ears, Geralt thought, gaze lingering on Jaskier’s soft features. 

When Jaskier peeked up through his eyelashes, Geralt was quick to avert his stare back to the crackling fire, blaming it for the rush of heat that spread through his chest, and an undeniable sweet smell of dandelions filled his nostrils. Jaskier smelled like flowers and honey, mixed with red wine on nights like this. 

“You’re hard to read. You know that, witcher?” Jaskier said lazily, sly smile curling on his lips as he nuzzled his head against Geralt’s shoulder.

“So I’ve heard,” Geralt said, throat feeling dry. He took another swig of red wine. “And it’s Geralt.” 

Two days later Jaskier explained his real name was Julian. “It didn’t really feel like me, so I changed it,” the brunet said casually over dinner. That was also something Geralt had noticed. Jaskier liked to bring up new topics over dinner or when the sun was starting to set.

Geralt didn’t think much of it.

“What’s your actual name?” 

Geralt looked at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye, roasting a piece of meat on the fire with a raised brow. “Geralt.”

“Ah, I see.” Jaskier looked disappointed for a moment before his face settled back into its usual beaming smile. “Well then, Geralt, how about another round of that sweet wine we brought along?”

With a huff, Geralt shook his head and filled Jaskier’s mug to the brim. 

The night ended with Jaskier’s head lying on his lap, looking as if he was fast asleep before he sat up and looked at the witcher right in the eyes. “Do you see in the dark with those?”

“Definitely not if you poke them.” Geralt took Jaskier’s prodding hand between his palms. This time, there was no denying the rush of heat that coursed through his chest and the sound of Jaskier’s heart beating loudly in his ribcage. 

Another thing Geralt had noticed about Jaskier was that the brunet was bold. He had never quite met someone like him before; sweet, caring, yet upfront about what he wanted, and Geralt had a hunch about what Jaskier was after at that moment when he twisted the front of his hunting attire. 

Without a word, Geralt let him press their lips together. They both tasted like wine, and Jaskier’s lips were a little chapped but soft and pliant, and his voice sounded like music to Geralt’s ears when a soft chuckle left his lips. 

The next day, Jaskier had set his heart on riding Roach ‘as a prize for their journey together’. 

Geralt barked out a laugh at that. “Not a chance.”

“Oh come on, darling witcher.” Jaskier nudged him in the side. “For old times’ sake?”

“We’ve known each other for a month,” Geralt argued back, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Alright, then I must ask for something in return,” Jaskier said determinedly, straightening his back when he stopped Geralt in his movements and swiftly stood in front of him. “What do you say?”

“Fine.” Geralt rolled his eyes, putting Roach to a halt. 

A grin curled on Jaskier’s lips. “What’s your name?”

“Geralt,” the witcher said, sighing as Jaskier prompted him to continue by putting his hands on his hips. “Geralt of Rivia. Happy now?”

“Overjoyed,” Jaskier beamed. “I need to know my companion’s name after all.” 

“Right.” Geralt raised a brow at him but continued in his steps nonetheless. Jaskier was an odd fellow, Geralt thought, eyes widening when he felt his medallion hum. 

A shiver ran down his spine as he heard wings unfurl behind him. “Jaskier?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts :)


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